Fic Index

Dec. 27th, 2020 02:18 pm
rosie_rues: (Gwen)
[personal profile] rosie_rues
Primarily Harry Potter and Merlin, with a smattering of other fandoms from [ profile] yuletide, but that may change.


A Lonely Impulse of Delight Gwen/Morgana, PG, Spitfire AU
Gwen stayed above the bad weather as long as she could, watching the shadow of the Spitfire float over the fleecy tops of the clouds. Up here, the sun was bright, but there was nothing to tell her where she was, whether she was even over land or sea. She kept to her heading, watching for any break in the clouds.

None appeared, and she looked at the petrol gauge. Twenty minutes, and she should have heeded her common sense and not let anyone goad her into flying in poor weather. Taking a breath, she eased the plane back down, anxiously watching the instruments she'd never been formally trained to use.

A New Low, Arthur/Merlin, PG, Modern AU
Merlin's fingers are already starting to curl up when he leaves his desk, and it seems like common sense to get in the lift rather than try to negotiate five floors worth of concrete stairs, especially since the light is out over the gigantic orange number three some way below his feet, and really what kind of company colour-codes its floors, and why can't they use nice, non-eye-searing colours like blue and yellow rather than shocking pink and lime green and other hues never found in nature?

Close Your Eyes Leon, Morgause, gen (potentially the first in a series), PG-13, pre-series
It had been Morgause's idea to hold the blacksmith hostage, of course, but Leon had been the one to insist they took the other palace children along. So there were six of them feasting on the floor while Tom pounded away at the forge outside: Morgause herself; her baby sister, kidnapped from the nursery and tugging in a determined way on the pale, ragged ends of Morgause's pigtails; Leon; Tom's boy Elyan, now cake-besmeared and giggly; Clement, the alchemist's son, three years younger than Morgause and Leon; and Tom's little Guinevere, sleeping placidly through the fuss.

Codes Gwen/Arthur/Merlin, PG-13, 2x02 coda.
Arthur's head is still spinning with thoughts of Gwen - Guinevere, who's always just been there, quiet and steadfast and respectful, and who is now suddenly so much more. He'd be happily sinking into contemplation of her smile and her breasts (and why has he never noticed those before?) and her quiet integrity, if it wasn't for Merlin.

Merlin has turned moping into an art form. His gloom fills the entire room like smoke or a particularly noxious fart, and it dampens any pleasure Arthur has in his new awareness of Gwen. Merlin is so blazingly unhappy that it actually makes the room seem colder, which would be useful in high summer but is a mere nuisance right now.

Days of Old and Days To Be - Part 1, with link to Part 2 Arthur/Merlin, background Gwen/Lancelot. Regency!au written for [ profile] anowlinsunshine in [ profile] camelotsolstice 2009. R, spoilers up to 2:08.

In the summer of 1819, many things were said of the young Marquess of Camelot: that he was the darling of the ton, the most eligible man in London; that he was almost as fine a man as his father, the Duke; that he was a notable whip, a fine shot and a good man in the ring; that his costume, though correct in every detail, never displayed a hint of over-extravagance; and that, to the sorrow of every ambitious mama in England, he was yet to show even the slightest inclination towards matrimony.

However, at the hour of 4am, as he meandered his way home from his club, only one thing could be said of the marquess with absolute certainty: Arthur Pendragon was thoroughly foxed.

Much Sorrow We Walk In Mordred, G
The druids made Mordred welcome, giving him food and shelter and compassion, so that he might survive his grief. He walked with them through the silence of the forest, as he had walked with his father in days gone by. The creatures of the wood gave them greeting, and Mordred touched their minds, felt the dark, peaceful cycle of life moving through them, old giving way to young, death coming as certain and as unremarkable as the dawn, all things in their place.

Shake Your Windows and Rattle Your Walls - Arthur/Merlin UST, PG, 1960s AU.
Merlin always stops the port, uneducated oik that he is, and somehow it's always Arthur's job to lean over and shove the decanter left before someone starts to bray about it (and if he sometimes takes a while to pull himself out of Merlin's lap again, that's because the table's too low and Gwaine thinks port tastes better from wineglasses and he was up at five to row, not because he likes the way Merlin laughs down at him, so loud and broad and affectionate they can probably hear him at high table).

Lancelot pulls him back up with an amused smile, murmuring, “The queen.”

They all manage to stumble upright to make the toast, though Arthur has to kick Merlin twice before he drinks.

“I'm a Marxist!” he protests, thankfully under the hubbub of everyone taking their seats again as the dons clear out to drink in the SCR. “I reject your elitist oligarchic mon-”

“Merlin,” Arthur reminds him kindly. “You're a classicist.”

Summer Kisses Arthur/Merlin, PG, future!fic
It was May, the first of Arthur's reign, and world danced on the edge between spring and summer: the sunlight was bright and clear, and the colonnades remained cool even as the courtyards warmed under the kiss of the sun. Swallows, bringers of consolation, were darting around the stable eaves, and the air resounded with the sound of birdsong.

The Coming of the King Arthur/Merlin pre-slash, PG, future!fic
It was winter when the wolf first spoke to Arthur, six years after Merlin had left Camelot, two after Morgana had vanished in the night.

Winter, and twelve of them to take down just one clawed hag, and no shelter now but a shallow mountain cave; winter, and frost already heavy on the ground, his knights huddled so close for warmth that their red cloaks overlapped like petals even as Kay, clawed by the hag, moaned faintly in his sleep; winter, and Arthur had taken the watch, standing at the cave’s mouth to peer into the night. His back stung from the heat of the fire, and the icy air blowing in bit at his cheeks.

These are the voyages of the Starship - oh, wait Star Trek crossover, gen.

Sulu had an inkling then, but he had other things on his mind for a few minutes. It wasn't until the hostile ship silently flashed white and then went dark, and space calmed around them, that he took a proper look at the other Federation ship.

The USS Excalibur, its port nacelles thoroughly charred, was floating ahead of them.

Oh, crap.

Thrift, Merlin/Morgana, Morgana-centric, R, dub-con, Season Three spoilers
West, she fled, into the claws of the wind; west, beyond Camelot and Caerleon; west, where the sea broke against the land, low and grey and hungry. It was the sea that stopped her, threw her back on the pale sands every time she fought her way into its cold embrace. It was in the sea that she fell to her knees and screamed out the last of her grief and rage until her throat was raw. Brief author's commentary here

Vulcan Arthur/Merlin pre-slash, G/PG, AU
Arthur turns up unannounced in mid-July, banging impatiently on Merlin's window when he's slow to open the door.

"You better have clean sheets on your spare bed," he says as Merlin blinks at him.

Were You Up For Pendragon? Merlin/Arthur, 1990s AU, sequel to Shake Your Windows and Rattle Your Walls.

On election night, they all cram into the SCR and roar approval at every Labour victory. Merlin heckles David Mellor and James Goldsmith simultaneously and bellows louder than the undergrads when Labour conquers over Rifkind and the Lib Dems beat out Lamont. He's been waiting for this since 1979, and finally his party are rolling home (although, he has to admit, they aren't really his party any more, this New Labour and their slithery, too-charming leader).

There is only one Tory he wants to hold his seat, and Arthur has been around as long as the Tories have been in power, Junior Minister and Secretary of Energy and, later, of Defence. He's survived the Brighton bombing, the Poll Tax and Black Wednesday, the smug bastard. He's even outlasted Thatcher. He's a fixture.

Harry Potter

Remus/Sirius, James/Lily, Dumbledore/Grindelwald written for [ profile] dogdaysofsummer 2009, ranging up to NC-17.
In 1976, everything burned.

Every morning Remus woke with the taste of ash lingering on his lips. The air was full of smoke. Sometimes the fires were distant, grey plumes rising between the mountains to stain the ever-cloudless skies. Sometimes they were closer, filling the air until ash came sifting down like snow.

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Author's commentary: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 & 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31

Rising Storm Universe - Remus/Sirius, James/Lily and gen stories. Written between Half Blood Prince and Deathly Hallows


Prophecy - R/S, L/J - written for [ profile] tellmeakiss
Sun, Sea and Sand - R/S, written for [ profile] tellmeakiss
After the party - Bring Back Black crack!fic. R/S, R/T
Sensations Sweet - R/S, NC-17, jelly baby!smut, crack.
Upholstery Should Be Made of Sterner Stuff - R/S, written for [ profile] wellymuck
Adrift! - R/S, PG, Marauders lost at sea, crack.
School Ties - R/S, PG-13, Hogwarts-era
Keeping Cool - R/S, PG, Hogwarts era

Let Us Sport Us While We May R/S, R, Hogwarts Era
Remus is standing on his bed, bare toes curled into crumpled sheets for balance. Sirius, sprawled across the pillows with a copy of the Prophet sliding apart on his lap, chews the end of his quill and watches Remus through his eyelashes. The sun is bright and low, a midsummer evening, gilding everything in the dorm until even Peter’s dirty socks and James’ ratty old practice broom seem precious and enchanted.

Other Pairings

There's Something in the Heir Tonight - For the [ profile] perposterice fest. Marcus Flint/Millicent Bulstrode.
Un-Dressed - For the [ profile] perposterice fest. Severus Snape/Remus Lupin.
Battle Nerves - L/J, implied R/S, NC-17

A Life in Obscurity slight Ignotus Peverell/Death, characters from Arthurian legend, barely PG
Ignotus did not take the cloak off, even when he reached the place where his teacher had sent him. Instead, he busied himself with building a crackling fire on the north side of the hill and crouched beside it, welcoming the chance to sit somewhere warm.

He had been travelling for a month, since his brothers died, and he had not dropped the hood of the cloak once. Now he sat on a strange, green hillside and looked down into an unknown country, west of everything he knew, beyond Londinium, beyond Astolat, beyond Glevum. There were mountains in the distance, already beginning to dim with the evening, and he knew he could not be too far from the sea, though he could not imagine Saxon raiders slipping up into these green valleys.

Extracts From An OFSTED report Gen.
Hogwarts School is a satisfactory school with some good and very good features and some poor features. The very good leadership is not matched by similar standards of teaching in some cases. Student attitudes are mixed and interhouse relations have declined since the last inspection. Examination results indicate progress when balanced against an average expenditure per student, producing a school which gives satisfactory value for money.

Old Adventurers Dumbledore/Grindelwald, PG
When he had built Nurmengard, Gellert had intended the constant sigh of the trees to drive his captive enemies to slow insanity. The constant whisper of the wind over the forest had been inspired by the waves that brushed the walls of Azkaban, but where those seas signified the tomb of every hope, the trees had been designed as a taunt. Listen, the sound should have said, the world goes on without you. There is life and hope and magic in the world, and you will never touch it again.

Either his plans had been flawed or the awareness of its original purpose had made him immune, for Gellert found the sound rather comforting.

Those Frightful Malfoy Scenes Scorpius, Teddy, PG
It was a bright morning in August when Grandmamma announced, “My sister Andromeda will be joining us this afternoon.”

Scorpius’ father didn’t even look up from behind the
Prophet. “I will make arrangements to dine at my club.”

Grandmamma sipped her tea. Scorpius didn’t know how she could bear to drink tea in this weather, even with the cooling charms that wafted around her like perfume. She seemed to enjoy it though, by the way her lashes dipped and her lips curved into a smile as she lowered her cup.

Except that was her
difficult smile. Scorpius, being a Malfoy, wasn’t allowed to slouch, but he could try to disappear into the back of his chair.


In which the events of October 31st 1981 never took place. Peter Pettigrew is dead, Voldemort's rise had continued unabated and the Potter family are in hiding as Muggles.

Ordinary Lives 1 2

Rendezvous in Waterloo - Tonks

Diana Wynne Jones


Christopher's Elephant, Christopher, Millie, young enchanters, Gen.
Millie made it to breakfast that morning just in time to stop Henrietta from falling out of the window. Once she and Elizabeth had dragged the younger girl back in by her wide sash, she took a breath and glared.

"It wasn't my fault!" Henrietta protested, brown eyes wide and pleading. "I slipped!"

"If you will lean so far out of a window, you should expect to slip," Millie said, exchanging a quick glance with Elizabeth. Henrietta already was shuffling back towards the window.

Elizabeth hummed slightly, and Millie reached out with her magic and tugged. Henrietta went skidding back to the breakfast table, her sash now fastening her to the chair.

"But I want to see the elephant!" she protested.

The Murder at Missel Hall Conrad, Christopher, Millie, Elizabeth/Antonio, PG
At that moment we heard the sound of voices outside. I crossed to the window in time to see the rest of my Castle family appear out of an archway, dragging a large sled across the snowy lawns. It was heaped with greenery - holly and ivy covering what looked like a fair sized tree. Millie and Jason had a rope each, and were dragging it bumpily. Millie was so bundled up against the cold that she kept falling over her own feet and Jason kept swinging round to shout to the others. Bernard was jogging beside the sled, holding the tree steady as he talked. Michael was swooping about in their wake, his coat billowing as he ducked down to collect stray twigs. The younger enchanters were milling around the sled. As I watched a couple of the girls ran ahead, their heels striking up sprays of snow.

Christopher was walking beside Bernard, a spring of mistletoe tucked nonchalantly under one arm. His scarf was tied in a perfect, flamboyant knot, and he alone was neither red-faced not smeared in snow.

Appearances Janet, Julia, G
That evening, after they'd finally seen the last of Gwendolyn, Julia very reluctantly made her way along the corridor. Outside Gwendolyn's room, she set her shoulders and then knocked hard on the door.

Janet opened it. When she saw Julia, her expression tightened. She looked so like Gwendolyn that Julia found herself hating her without meaning to. Then she reminded herself that this was how she'd got into this mess in the first place.

Rhinegold Cat, Marianne, Tonino, Conrad, G
"I do think you're lucky," Julia said enviously as she watched them dash around. "I never get to go offworld."

"I don't feel lucky," Marianne said from somewhere behind the sofa. "I'm terrified, and I can't find my good hat."

"Klartch?" Cat said suspiciously. Klartch had recently acquired a vendetta against anything decorated with feathers, from dusters to boas.

Of Smiting and Sugar Mice Marianne, Cat, Gwendolen, G
Marianne hadn't really been aware of how often Chrestomanci went to other worlds until he started taking Cat with him.

“It's not that often, really,” Millie told her, lining up sugar mice on the desk in front of them. “They're busy at the moment trying to set up a cross-series agreement for returning prisoners, and the diplomacy is keeping them frazzled. Now, try to put a little more force into it, this time.”

Millie was teaching them battle magic, which Marianne was very bad at. Sighing, she tried to call down lightning on the nearest mouse, but she was distracted thinking about other worlds, and all that happened was that the mouse turned blue and a few sparks came off its nose.

Fools Rush In Tonino/Angelica, Cat, PG
For Angelica, it began with the bewildered Englishman.

He was one of that particular breed of vague, fair-haired English gentlemen who sometimes seemed to appear in the midst of Florence, looking stiff and out-of-place, sporting their Baedekers like shields.


The Paths of the Undying Mitt/Maewen, PG
When Maewen was eighteen, she bought herself a roving railway ticket and a large backpack and took off to travel around Dalemark by train. Her friends didn't understand why she didn't want to go somewhere more exotic and her aunt didn't understand why she wanted to go at all.

She told her dad that she was wandering the green roads, because he was the only one who might understand. He gave her a small smile, half proud, half worried, and asked if she was taking up novel-writing again.

When her train finally drew out of Kernsburgh, though, she told herself she was on the Paths of the Undying.

City of Gold Hern, G
Ten years after Kars Adon died, Hern's advisers came to him and suggested that he should build a capital. Hern, who had slept more of his reign rolled in a rugcoat under a bush than in an actual bed, assumed it was a poor attempt at humour and ignored them.

A while later, while they were camped beside an as yet unnamed waterfall, where the spray dusted everyone's hair in gleaming droplets, they asked again.

"Don't be ridiculous," Hern said, looking around the field with a critical eye. It was a good sized valley, with room for pasture. It could be a good base to resettle some of the refugees who still fought for space around the banks of the Aden after their villages had been destroyed by the One's rising. "What do you think of Dropthwaite for a name?"


Running Away Kathleen/Sirius, PG-13, future!fic
At university, Kathleen dated a lot of astronomy students. She let them buy her dinner and tell her about their research, incomprehensible numbers spilling out of them. They walked her home under skies smudged orange from the streetlights and kissed her in the shadow of her porch. When they left, she sat by her open window and looked up, wondering why she could never escape the faint certainty that there was somewhere she was meant to be.

She dreamed through her own lectures, half-closing her eyes against blanched-out slide shows and letting the words merge with the light until she imagined Cassiopeia and Andromeda haloed with light as heroes fought before them.

Other Fandoms

Arthurian Legend
Envying Angels Galahad/Percival UST, R
Percival's voice is deep and still soft with the country cadence of his youth. Galahad listens and pretends to sleep.

Galahad knows that real soldiers, real knights, seize sleep where they can, but Percival is as excited as he is about this quest. Neither of them sleep easily, and when they do they dream of the Grail, floating in the air above them, ever elusive.

Beltane Eve Arthur/Lancelot/Guinever, NC-17
Lancelot could hear the drums pounding, the air shaking around him, quivering with heat from the fires. There was smoke, applewood and hawthorn, spring trees, wreathing around him..

The noise reminded him of Badon, though the battle was long done, and these were the days of Arthur’s rising. The summer king had risen, and it was Beltane Eve.

He seized a bottle from a passing dancer, and drank heavily, feeling the warm burn of metheglin coat his throat, and the clay smooth against his damp palms. Someone snatched the bottle from him, warm slim fingers brushing his wrist suggestively.

David Eddings - Elenium/Tamuli
Blessings Vanion, Sephrenia, PG, pre-series
Sir Vanion was feeling particularly irritable by the time he reached the motherhouse in Demos. It had started to rain the moment he left Cimmura, and he had made the long ride through increasingly thick mud. To add insult to injury, his own horse had shod a shoe two hours out of Cimmura and he had been forced to hire a horse from a wayside inn.

The idiot gelding had been entirely unused to the weight of a fully armoured knight on his back and had so trudged all the way to Demos. Vanion had been seriously considering dismounting and walking by the time they reached the outskirts of the town.

E. M. Forster - A Room With a View
Carpe Diem Cecil/Freddy, WW1, R
Dr Frederick Honeychurch arrived in Ypres at the start of June 1917, riding in the back of a Royal Engineers truck with two orderlies fresh out from Blighty, a half dozen gnarled mining engineers and a chap from Information who spent the entire trip either fussing over his crate of message balloons or griping about his CO.

Freddy, who had been out here for long enough to take advantage of some quiet time, spent the journey trying to nap. The road, however, was rough, and he kept being jounced out of his pleasant doze. It was a warm day, and the soft breeze and gentle touch of the sun repeatedly tricked the doctor into thinking himself back in his childhood home in the Weald.


But That's Another Story Wild Swans, G
When the celebrations were over and Fionnuala reunited with her prince, her youngest and dearest brother, whose name was Gwyn, was nowhere to be found. Fionnuala searched the palace, asking of everyone she said, in her newfound voice, "Have you seen my brother? Have you seen the boy with a wing for an arm?"

At last, she found him on top of the highest tower in the palace. She had often lingered here, gazing down at the forest that lapped against the foot of the cliffs and the blue mountains in the distance, watching for the first flash of white wings in the sky.

The Garden of the Nightingale The Emperor and the Nightingale, G
On the morning that the emperor fell ill, Ying the kitchen maid left the little cottage on the shore where she lived with her sick mother, and made her way through the gardens to the palace. It was a long quiet walk, which she made every day, up through dunes planted with fragrant plants and past groves of bamboo. She crossed laughing streams over red-painted bridges and traced her way through pine groves hung with tiny bells until she came to the great water gardens, where delicate walkways passed a bare finger's breadth above the water, so that it seemed that she walked on the very lily pads. From the lakes, she then climbed up the terraces of roses and orchids, cherry trees and flowering plums.

Verity gender!swap Rapunzel, PG
The first time Princess Verity rode into the forest was six months after her father had taken the kingdom of Astermark. She was twelve years old and had finally slipped away from her tutors and nursemaids long enough to ride out into the fascinating forest which surrounded King Merit's new capital.

The forest did not disappoint, being full of treacherous paths, mysterious noises in the undergrowth and, Verity discovered all too soon, dangerous beasts. Having successfully escaped the attack of a huge and bad-tempered boar, she found herself quite hopelessly lost. As this was a common occurrence in all the best stories, she wasn't overly perturbed, but continued onwards in the hope of finding somewhere interesting to camp until the rescue party turned up.

Gouhou Drug aka Legal Drug

Midnight Kakei/Saiga, NC-17
Midnight. The moon is full. Clouds drift over the dim stars, carried by a breeze which lifts the fine hair off Kakei's neck. A cat's claws scratch against the fire escape and a distant siren suddenly blazes into life.

The air is hot and heavy, and he closes his eyes, seeing flickers of
snow, blood, shadow. This is not the night. Not yet.

Footsteps behind him, and warm arms slide around his waist. There's a bare chest against his back and a press of lips to his neck before Saiga murmurs, "You're worrying."

Frances Hodgson Burnett - The Secret Garden

A Garden in the Punjab Original characters, R
When her daughter Amarjeet was two months old, Saihajleen went to work for Memsahib Lennox. On the day she first met the Memsahib, she left the baby with her brother and walked across Amritsar, through dusty, narrow, zig-zag streets of the city. In this cool hour of the morning, the bazaars were already full, men and women crowding around the high-heaped stalls to talk and haggle. The air was full of steam and the scent of spices: shahi jira, dhaniya, dal chini, tejpatta, laung. In the little rooms that opened onto the street behind the stall, gleaming copper pots were heating over low fires and clay tandoors glowed in the shadows.

Hilary McKay - Casson Family series
Feeling Blue Indigo/Tom, PG, future!fic
The first person Indigo Casson saw when he got home was his sister Rose. This was because she was sitting on the front path and, not looking down as he scrambled out of the taxi, Indigo fell over her.

"Ow," he said, untangling himself. "

Rose glared at him silently from behind her square glasses, not moving. She was surrounded by a neat semi-circle of shoeboxes, some full of scraps of coloured paper, others full of pastels.

Robin McKinley - Damar

The Truth in Dreaming Corlath/Harry, R
A day after Harimad-sol and Mathin left them, Corlath and his Riders came to the ruins of Horontolopar. Once, in the days when Maur's desert had clawed through the very heart of Damar, this had been the Fourth Sandpale, one of eleven fastnesses that had marked the limits of the desert.

The desert had retreated since those long-distant days, and Damar's borders had shifted, but this was still the place where the hills truly began. There was no longer a Watcher guarding the roads across the sand to long-conquered Thaar and Chinilar, and the Pale had fallen to little more than crumbled walls, but the place still had some of the feel of old Damar. Corlath's vision was flushed with gold even as the sun sank below the horizon, and the little crested lizards that scurried across the weathered stones had eyes that seemed to flash gold.

Wanderlust Jack Dedham, G
Some days Colonel Jack Dedham had the urge to go out of his door, turn through the gates of his fort and keep walking until he reached Damar. He always managed to squash it down, reminding himself that he had sworn an oath to his Queen and his country, and had kept that oath loyally all his life. It was that urge, however, that led him to learn what few words of hilltongue he could and to look on the desert with wonder even in its cruellest moods.

Susan Cooper - The Dark is Rising

Eirias Will, Bran/Jane, PG, future!fic
The midwinter light fell softly onto Oxford, making the tops of the buildings blaze golden and casting the streets into shadow. A low mist was rising off the river, blurring the skyline and hiding the hills that rose around the city, low and slumberous. The streets were busy with Christmas shoppers, bundled into winter coats and laden with bags. Traffic stood solid along the narrow roads, exhaust fumes seeping into the air to darken the ancient Cotswold stone of the old colleges further. Christmas music pumped out of the shops on Cornmarket, and below the Carfax tower carol singers were lifting their voices to the darkening sky.

Bran Davies spared them a quick glance as he turned into the High, wondering if they knew what echoes they were invoking. Then he shoved his hands in his pockets, scowling, and strode onwards, his long coat billowing behind him. The crowds made way for him, and he smiled, lips twisting up, wondering if it was his crumbling mental state they were sensing or whether it was just the normal reaction to his pale hair and skin.

Summer Meeting Stephen, Will, G
"Steve!" Gwen called, voice sharp and irritated. "Stephen!"

Stephen, who had doing his best to escape the clutches of the rest of his family, bit back a groan. A family outing to some old ruin was not his idea of a good way to spend an August day. Give him a fishing rod or his bike and the company of some friends, anything except squabbling kids and bawling babies and pretending to be interested in some bit of ruin just because Max was going through a history phase.

"What do you want?" he called back, without turning to look at her. At least the view was good, the river winding its way out of the town and the hills beyond, green and rolling, guarding the valleys below.

Tamora Pierce - Tortall

Impatience Jon/George, PG-13
Jonathan knew that it was unfair on Alan (never Alanna, not in public) to leave her alone in the middle of the Rogue's Court, but he needed to get out of the heat and noise, away from the prostitutes with sweat-pearled breasts and the sniggering thieves who still jostled him hopefully, years after he'd first came here. He had to escape the knowing looks and the sly mutters about how close young Jon seemed to his friend. He heard enough of it, in both courts, and it ate away at him, making him question which he wanted more: the girl who no one else saw or the candid boy she seemed.

There was a pad of footsteps behind him, and he stiffened. He was known as the Rogue's friend, and he didn't think anyone would be stupid enough to attack him, but he was prepared for a fight, and would welcome it.

"That's no way to treat a lady," a soft voice growled in his ear, and Jon didn't quite relax. In this matter alone, George Cooper was not his friend.

Torchwood/Doctor Who
From Bend of Bay to Swerve of Shore 1 2 3 WIP, post CoE, R if I ever finish it (if you want more of this nag me. I know the rest of the story, but need some impetus to push it up the endless to-write list).
This is a story about the end of days.

Of course, all days have their endings. Wherever and whenever you are, it’s always evening somewhere out there. On one planet, there’s nothing but an eternal sunset, where the sky constantly fades from gold to pink to purple and back again, never reaching true darkness.

It’s not a bad planet, that one. Jenny rather likes it, even though the wildlife is a little over-exuberant. She’s never been felt up by a sentient vine before, but at least she can outrun it before it gets too familiar, and it’s all part of seeing the universe, right?

Ursula Le Guin - Earthsea
The Ghost of Orrimy, gen
Now, it came about that, in the days when there was still an Archmage on Roke, a restless spirit arose in the hills above Orrimy, and came down into the town with the winter. From dusk until dawn it wailed through the dark streets, turning milk sour and making cats miscarry. The burghers of Orrimy, tucked safely in warm beds behind high walls, felt the wailing creep into their dreams, casting them into formless and bloody nightmares.

Ursula Vernon - Gearworld
The Grace of the Golem Keeper, G
The angel appeared on the same day as the goldfinch, and of the two it was the far less strange.


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